


This and Nothing Else

by banbanabas



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Parental Manuela, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), also she has some self esteem issues, dont worry doro we love u, dorothea has a mom figure even if she doesn't recognize it ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banbanabas/pseuds/banbanabas
Summary: Dorothea can't sleep, so she wanders the monastery. Surprisingly, she isn't the only one awake.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Manuela Casagranda
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	This and Nothing Else

Dorothea lies awake in her bed. All is quiet. She is warm and she knows what the next day entails: she will wake up, go to class, go to training, go on a date with a knight.

She has this routine, week by week, moon by moon. She watches it drain her days away like sand through an hourglass, sand passing through her fingers. There isn't much time, she thinks.

There has never been enough time. Her mother left too soon; her childhood died young in the streets. She dragged herself into the limelight and fought desperately to stay there, then left even that behind. She keeps moving forward, outrunning the sand as it falls, hissing and tumbling, onto her mounting pile of short-lived memories.

And even now, with a warm bed beneath her and an undeniably safe roof over her head, she can't help but anticipate. Will she be this safe in a year? Will her time at the academy be worth it? Will she find someone here to take care of her, or will she fail and regret every decision she's made since she left the opera house?

Dorothea sighs in resignation. She cannot sleep like this.

She throws off her blanket and sits up. How late is it? She glances out her window to see the moon high in the pitch-black sky, which doesn't tell her much. She gets up anyway, shuffling on some semblance of clothing over her sleepwear, and tiptoes out the door.

The monastery is silent in the evenings. Other than the occasional guard, there's barely a soul to be seen. Dorothea could probably wander anywhere she wants without being bothered. So she wanders.

There's a slight chill in the air, and she shivers as she walks through the courtyard. The teatime tables catch her eye - they look oddly lonely with no one there to fill up their seats. For a moment she considers sitting, but almost instantly she dismisses the thought. That's what one of the characters in an opera would do: sit in an empty garden and wax poetic about their sorrows. Dorothea refuses to think of herself as some tragic heroine.

She turns on her heel and walks briskly into the entrance hall. The tables here are equally empty, and her footsteps echo off the stone floor with satisfying  _ clacks _ . Somehow, she feels more awake than tired now. She feels frustration rising in her chest as she stalks through the northern doors and down the path to the cathedral.

In the daytime, she only comes here for choir practice. She doesn't believe in much beyond what she can see and hear and feel, so she doesn't feel like she belongs here. But at night, when no one is here to judge her, she doesn't mind this place. Dorothea nudges the oaken door open and slips through.

She sees the stained glass sparkling with moonlight, the vaulted ceilings, and... another person, their head bowed low in one of the last pews. Dorothea freezes. She tries to sneak back out, but the door creaks, and the person turns to look at her.

"Dorothea?"

Dorothea eyes widen in surprise. "Manuela," she says, and her voice is so quiet that she may as well have not said anything.

Manuela rises, steps out into the main walkpath, and offers a small smile. It almost looks... apologetic. "I didn't expect to see anyone here at this hour," she says, smoothing her dress with her hands. "I didn't take you for the devout type, Dorothea."

"I'm not," she answers coolly. Her opportunity to run has passed, and she still has one foot out the door. Sighing, she gives in and walks fully into the chapel. "I was just passing through."

"Passing through?" Manuela asks, a curious look on her face. "Where were you headed, then? The Goddess Tower?"

Dorothea blushes. "I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I just... couldn't sleep."

"Ah," Manuela says. She looks to the pew and back to Dorothea. "Well, if you'd like some company..."

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt. Of all the people to find here, Manuela is easily the one she gets along with best. "All right," she says. "I think I would like that."

Manuela scoots back into the pew (there's no way to do that with her usual grace), and Dorothea follows. They sit in silence for a while. Dorothea feels small compared to this massive room, its history etched in stone and glass. Even if she doesn't believe in a goddess, she must admit her place of worship has some kind of power to it.

"So," Manuela says, breaking her from her thoughts. "I'm guessing you have something on your mind."

Dorothea keeps her gaze trained on anything but the woman beside her. "Oh, you know. Just worried about the inevitable march of time," she says. It's easier to say as a joke.

Manuela laughs lightly. "You and me both." She leaves it at that, some unspoken worry hanging in the air between them. Dorothea can guess it has to do with her finding a husband. But she isn't sure, so she asks.

"Is that why you're here, too?"

She hears Manuela sigh, and she turns to see her wearing an uncharacteristically tired expression. Her eyes are unfocused, and Dorothea notices the crow's feet, the way her brows inch a tiny bit upward and leave wrinkles on her forehead. She hasn't noticed Manuela's age until now. 

"To be frank, no, that's not why I'm here," Manuela says. The usual lilt in her voice is gone. "I come here at night to pray for the students. For their safety." She looks at Dorothea, and the concern in her eyes is so palpable that it feels like a spike through Dorothea's chest. "I don't mean to scare you, Dorothea, but these missions you go on each month... The danger is real." She shifts where she sits, hands planted solidly on the wood below her. "Your professor will keep you as safe as she can, but... Things happen. Watch your back, okay? And watch out for your classmates, too."

Dorothea hasn't seen Manuela speak this candidly since the opera house all those years ago. She feels a swell of an emotion that she doesn't quite recognize, and she squashes it because it just might make her cry. "I promise I'll be careful," she says, and she means it.

Manuela nods, relief evident in the way her brows relax. "Thank you, Dorothea." She shoots her a smile. "Not that I think you go getting yourself into danger, of course. But you could probably do with keeping Caspar from throwing himself at enemies."

Dorothea can't help but snort at that. "Will do," she says, and they're quiet again. Even though she feels a little better now, her fears still gnaw at her. She doesn't want to be alone with them right now, not with someone she trusts so close by. "Manuela?"

"Yes, Dorothea?"

"Do you think I made the right choice to come to the Academy?"

Manuela jerks her head to look at her in surprise. "Why would you ask that?" she says carefully.

Dorothea wraps her arms around herself, pulling her coat tighter. "I... I'm not here for the same reason as everyone else. You know that. You know where I came from," she says, and Manuela nods with an unreadable expression. "I don't want to be a military hero or some general. I'm just here to... to find someone to marry.

"And I hate having to say that," she continues, bitterness clear in how she spits the words, eyes turned down toward her lap. "I feel like I'm dead weight. Like I'm just trying to pawn myself off on someone who deserves better than that, but I can convince them otherwise if I try hard enough." She feels tears beginning to spill over her cheeks, but the words keep coming. "I wish I had more to offer, I really do, but I'm just - " She gestures angrily at herself. " - _this_ and nothing else."

She has more to say, on the verge of bursting forth now that the dam is broken, but she feels Manuela's arms around her, pulling her into a hug. It shocks her at first, but then she feels herself holding on tight to her old mentor, and she can't stop the choked sob that escapes her.

"Dorothea," Manuela says softly, patting her back. "You are  _ not _ dead weight. You are an amazing, beautiful, strong young woman, and anyone would be lucky to marry you." Manuela sighs, and it almost sounds like she sniffles. "You deserve happiness just as much as anyone else."

Dorothea clings to her, burying her face against Manuela's shoulder as she cries like she hasn't in a very long time. Manuela holds her through it, and the angle is awkward on the pew, but neither one of them really cares. 

Finally, when the tears stop coming, Dorothea can't stop herself from mumbling a subdued "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Manuela says. She rubs gentle circles at her back. "Seems like you needed a good cry."

Dorothea laughs wetly, relaxing a little. "I guess so." She leans back and gasps when she sees mascara-tinted tears on Manuela's face. "Wait, why are you crying?"

Manuela wipes at her cheeks. "How could I not, hearing you talk about yourself like that?" she says. She puts her hand on Dorothea's shoulder, a little firmly. "You have a lot more people in your corner than you realize. Me, for one. Your professor. Your friends."

Dorothea feels her eyes begin to sting again. "Manuela..."

"We want you to succeed. _I_ want to see you succeed. You've worked so hard to get to where you are, Dorothea. You deserve whatever good things come your way. And good things _will_ come your way, I'm sure of it," Manuela says, her usual sass accentuating the last few words.

Dorothea has to smile at that. "I... I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"Of course," she says, and she smiles back. Dorothea notices something gleaming on her dress.

"Oh, no," Dorothea says, wiping her nose hurriedly. A sharp blush rises to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I think I got... On your shoulder..."

Manuela tsks and waves her hand flippantly. "Don't worry about it, dear. I work in the infirmary. A little runny nose doesn't bother me."

"Right," Dorothea responds, but her cheeks stay red, and she suddenly feels her exhaustion hit her. She yawns.

"Feel like you’ll be able to get to sleep now?" Manuela asks gently.

"Definitely," Dorothea says. She grins. "I'm going to sleep like a baby after I cried like one."

Manuela shakes her head and shoos her off the pew, laughing. "I told you not to worry about that! Now go, get some rest.”

They stand beside each other in the empty cathedral, and Dorothea feels like she should say something else, something meaningful. Manuela means a whole lot to her. She just doesn't know the right words.

So she hugs her instead, and she says, "Thank you for listening."

Manuela holds her tight one more time. "Anytime, Dorothea."

They part ways once they pass through the cathedral door. Dorothea returns to her room, and she gets back in bed (cold now). The ache in her heart subsides as she stares at the wood of the ceiling, her mind stilling just long enough, and she finally drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i just love manuela as dorothea's mom figure ok


End file.
